


How It Starts

by FullmetalFlameElric



Series: The Memoirs of a Tevinter Soporati [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Iron Bull drives a bus, Iron Bull should never drive, REALLY slow, Slow burn Krem/Dorian, Tattoo Artist Dorian, like really slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 19:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4031305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalFlameElric/pseuds/FullmetalFlameElric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iron Bull should never be allowed to drive. Cassandra is annoyed. And Krem gets hit on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How It Starts

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I'm going to say two things here and now, and this will be the only time.
> 
> This series of one shots will be from Krem's point of view for the most part. There may be the occasional one where it deviates to someone else, but for the most part it will be Krem. That being said, I will be doing my best to stick true to Krem's character. However, each person handles their transitions differently. This will not, however, be a large part of the story as I don't want it the central focus. I want the focus of this series to be Krem's life with the people around him and his budding love/hate relationship with Dorian. This series will focus on people as people.
> 
> Second, this series will focus mostly on light hearted topics and enjoying the odder moments of life. However, there will be the occasional fic that focuses on a much more serious topic. I will tag these accordingly. If you feel that I have missed a tag, please let me know via comments or some other way.
> 
> That being said, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback. And please respect myself and one another.

For Cremisius “Krem” Aclassi, he could easily say that death of his quiet life happened when he met The Iron Bull. The man was a walking magnet for trouble. Trouble, that happened to follow just about anyone that associated with The Chargers rugby team. It wasn’t to say they went looking for it. No, trouble just happened to find them regardless of where they were. The previous year, they’d ended up having to replace five tires on their team bus, bailing two players out of the local jail, and having to round up at least seven puppies after a horrific accident that involved a squirrel, some peanut butter, and a large pool of molasses. 

They tried not to talk about that last one.

But it would seem fitting, and not all that surprising, that they would start off the preseason with getting pulled over after The Iron Bull had a minor case of road rage.

“C’mon Cassandra! The guy had it comin’ to him!” Bull was saying, waving his massive arms around as if gesturing grandly would aid in his story telling. Before him, a woman stood, arms crossed over her chest and badge on full display.

Officer Pentaghast was far from amused.

“Bull, we’ve had this talk before. Just because the other driver may be driving like an asshole does not give you the right to rear end them.” She sighed, somehow managing to sound both amused and disgusted in the same breath.

“They ran the stop light!” Bull protested again.

Leaning against the bus, the rest of the Chargers were grumbling as they watched the scene play out. From inside, Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off” was still playing on repeat. Arms crossed, shoulders pressed against the garish pink bus (the team colors were green and pink, courtesy of Bull’s horrible sense of humor), Krem watched the entire episode unfold with a growing sense of resignation. Of course the Chief would get them into this situation. Again.

“You’re lucky you still have a license.” Officer Pentaghast deadpanned. There was no way she was going to budge on this one. Krem could already see it was a lost cause. “In fact, how you’re still able to drive for the local school district baffles me.”

Bull snorted and crossed his arms. Everyone seemed to be doing that a lot. “They’d never get rid of me. Kids actually behave for me.”

“That’s ‘cause they’re terrified of your driving, Chief.” Krem called over, earning a snort from Skinner, the elf standing to his left.

“Hush. No one asked you, Krem-puff.”

The ‘Vint rolled his eyes in reply. “Good one, Chief. Haven’t heard it before.”

Sighing heavily, Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is your last warning, Bull. We’ll be going over the footage from the traffic cams. If we find you’re at fault you know what’s going to happen.”

The large Qunari slumped, lifting a hand to the back of his head and nodding. “Yeah. Yeah I got it. Can I call the tow truck now and get my baby to the shop for repairs?”

Cassandra lifted a brow and went around to look at the front of the bus. The pair of steer horns were still firmly in place on the front. “There’s hardly a scratch on it.” She stated, looking from the pristine bus front to the barely recognizable back end of a small four door compact car.

Bull just hummed happily, a smug look settled firmly into place. In the background the distressed driver could be heard yelling at Officer Rutherford, his arms pinwheeling as he flailed during his retelling of the incident.

Somewhere, Krem thought, the Maker was laughing at him.

-0-0-0-0-

“I swear, Chief. You can’t keep getting into trouble like that.” Krem muttered, following the Qunari out of a cafe across the street from their usual mechanic. Lavellan had given Bull the stink eye before ushering them out with a few choice words and muttered threats if he “found one scratch on my baby”. Sometimes, Krem seriously thought he was the only sane person he knew.

“Aw, they won’t write me a ticket. He came flying passed that stop light. I couldn't’ have hit my breaks in time to avoid him.” Bull stated, waving the concern off.

Krem just shot him a look. “You stepped on the gas, Chief.”

Bull shrugged, looking back at him innocently through his one eye. “I panicked.”

“Well that’s a load of bull shi-OOF!” Krem started to say, grunting as he came to a sudden halt, a hand slapping him roughly in the chest to get him to stop walking. Groaning, the ‘Vint took a small step back and rubbed the sore area, cringing at the thought of the bruise he’d have come morning. “Chief, what the-”

“You know what you need? To let go a bit, creme de la creme. And I know the perfect way to do it.” Bull muttered, grabbing the younger man by the front of his shirt and beginning to drag him across the road. The insane bastard didn’t even stop to look before crossing.

The Iron Bull was going to be the death of him. He just knew it.

“Wait. What? Where are we going?” Krem asked, letting himself be pulled after Bull, if only to save one of his favorite shirts from being ruined beyond repair.

“We,” Bull started, coming to a stop outside a small shop. “Are going and setting up that team tattoo we’ve been planning.”

“I distinctly remember not having agreed nor disagreed with that idea, Chief.”

All he got was another slap on the back before he was being pushed through the open door, the merry little jingle of the bell greeting them. The shop within was dimly lit, save for a small area passed the counter where chair sat. A few shelves sat nearby, covered in an organized selection of inks, cleaning supplies, and various other small items. A set of two leather couches were placed off to the opposite side with a table of magazines and a binder of folders. The walls were a lovely rich red, paintings hung artistically around. There were even a few of tattoos, of which Krem wouldn’t doubt the artist of the shop had likely done.

All in all, it was a surprisingly relaxing atmosphere.

A whistle as Bull looked around. “Nice lookin’ place.”

“Never been here before, Chief?” Krem muttered, stepping closer to the main counter, eying the licenses displayed. Bull grunted a negative in response, wandering over to look at the artwork. “Dorian Pavus…. sounds like a ponce.”

“I somehow doubt yours is any better.” A voice sounded, startling the ‘Vint. Bull snorted at the display as Krem spun around to face the door to the room just off to the side of the counter. There, leaning against the door with a smug smirk in place, was one of the most striking men Krem had seen. His arms were colored in an array of snakes winding their way up his arms, a gold hoop in his right nostril and another in his septum. Everything about the man was perfectly groomed, down to the moustache that rested upon the man’s upper lip.

Krem hated the man and his moustache on sight. 

Behind him, Bull laughed and clapped once. “Looks like there’s more than one ‘Vint in Skyhold now, eh Kremster?”

The man, Dorian Pavus, lifted a finely shaped brow and tilted his head up ever so slightly to look at the two along the line of his nose. He looked far too pleased with this. “Kremster?”

“Cremisius Aclassi.” Bull introduced, clapping the shorter on the back once more before stepping forward to offer a hand to the second ‘Vint. “I’m The Iron Bull. The article’s important.”

“Dorian of House Pavus. Recently of Minrathous. Owner of this fine establishment.” The man stated, shaking the Qunari’s hand before folding his arms over his chest once more. “What can I do for you fine gentlemen?”

And those were the magic words. For a half hour, Krem stood there and did his best to not openly glare at the all too smug Tevinter while the two talked. Bull seemed to be enjoying himself as the two moved over towards a small laptop and desk. Pavus was sketching something out on a piece of paper while Bull walked him through it. The entire time, Krem watched Pavus closely, noting how the other man would often look over in Krem’s direction for a brief moment with those grey eyes of his.

It made Krem’s mood darken.

The two finally finished up, setting a large appointment for the team to come in on Thursday of the next week. Vaguely, Krem recalled Pavus mentioning staying open late for the group. Bull was certainly giddy by the time they were done setting the appointments.

“We’ll see you next Thursday then.” Bull confirmed, shaking the man’s hand once more.

“I’m sure you’ll be delighted. I’ll make sure to have the mock ups drawn for you to chose from.”

“Thanks again, Pavus.”

“Dorian, please. Pavus makes me sound like my father. It was a pleasure, The Iron Bull.” Pavus turned to face Krem, looking him over a moment before his smile curled into something more suggestive. “A pleasure to meet you as well, Cremisius. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Uh yeah. Right. We ready, Chief?”

Bull grunted and lead the way out of the door, Krem looking over his shoulder once more to narrow his eyes at the other Tevinter man. Had he really just been hit on? His look was returned with a wink.

Yup. He’d just been hit on.

“So what ya think?” Bull asked once they were making their way back down the street and towards the garage.

“I think, you better tell your boyfriend you’re getting another tattoo.” Krem deadpanned, giving the Qunari a pointed look.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Bull protested, rolling his eyes.

“No. He just spends more time at your house than his, you two are so sappy it’s sickening, and you both treat that bus of yours like it’s your child.”

“Alright. I get it. We’re complicated. Besides, that’s not what I was askin’. What’d you think of Pavus?” Bull grumped, lightly punching Krem in the arm. The younger snorted and rubbed the abused spot, rolling his eyes.

“What? The artist? I don’t like him.”

Bull paused, scoffing. “What do you mean you don’t like him? Seems like a pretty nice guy so far.”

Krem just shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t like him.”

“Well he seemed to like you.” Bull muttered, smirking once more. Krem squawked, turning to slug the taller in the arm and causing the Qunari to laugh.

“Don’t even start!”

Bull just laughed harder.

**Author's Note:**

> I take prompts! For this series or any other suggestions! You can find me at my-lord-megatron.tumblr.com
> 
> Feel free to drop me a prompt or just say hello!


End file.
